


Floor Coverings

by SCFrankles



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 00:38:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1920117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SCFrankles/pseuds/SCFrankles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, dear <i>God!”</i>  Abruptly, Watson found himself horizontal.</p>
<p>He raised his head from where he lay and glared up at Holmes. “Care to tell me why you’ve greased the sitting room floor?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Floor Coverings

**Author's Note:**

> A 221B - a story told in 221 words, the final word beginning with "b". 
> 
> Holmes and Watson created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
> 
> 221B form invented by [KCScribbler](http://kcscribbler.livejournal.com/) ([KCS](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4162281/1/221B)).
> 
>  
> 
> I'm not actually taking part in [Watson's Woes](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/)' July Writing Prompts (on LJ) but I have borrowed a [prompt](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/1048617.html) of theirs for this ^^"
> 
> * * *

“Oh, dear _God!”_ Abruptly, Watson found himself horizontal.

He raised his head from where he lay and glared up at Holmes. “Care to tell me why you’ve greased the sitting room floor?”

“Well,” said Holmes, “I needed to find out how far a man would slide if…”

“Just pick me up, you wretched man!”

 

 

_“Aaargh!”_

Holmes rushed into the sitting room to find Watson once more flat on his back, having slipped—perhaps surprisingly—on a patch of ice.

“My dear fellow!” cried Holmes. “I should have warned you of my experiment!”

“You better have a damned good explanation why I’m lying here with a rapidly chilling backside,” said Watson.

“It’s conduction,” said Holmes. “Heat travels...”

He caught Watson’s expression. “I see. I’ll just help you up then.”

 

 

_“Mud?”_

Holmes smiled. “At least you haven’t been thrown onto your back this time.”

“No,” said Watson. “But Mrs. Hudson will throw us _out_ if she sees this mess...”

 

 

Mrs. Hudson heard an almighty thud, and hurried upstairs to find Holmes prostrate, and Watson leaning on her mop.

“Mr. Holmes!” She gazed at the wet floor and turned to Watson. “No wonder Mr. Holmes fell—you’ve left soapsuds everywhere!”

“Oh, dear,” said Watson. “I really slipped up there. Holmes—would you like me to help you get your head out of the bucket?”


End file.
